


Falling Suns

by Deteriotech (curseofbunny)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama, M/M, Modern Fantasy, Modern Magic, Modern Royalty, Sibling Incest, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseofbunny/pseuds/Deteriotech
Summary: Two princes return to the kingdom of Kibasal, but after four years apart, they're not the same that each other remembers. And with everything geared to separate them, the question keeps coming: should they even try to stay by each other's sides?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Heir Apparent

**Author's Note:**

> to start, always heed the tags! the last thing i want is for anyone to be made uncomfortable. and as the age old quote reads: don't like, don't read!
> 
> This will contain: possible torture (depending on my mood at the time of getting to that portion), explicit sex, explicit incest as the main pairing, royal drama, magic systems, and all the fun accoutrements of a modern fantasy world that's nothing like ours (except for the things i didn't think about because of author oversight and, yknow, nonsense and tomfoolery).
> 
> If anyone has any questions, hit me up on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/settercest?s=09)
> 
> This is for nanowrimo 2020, probably. Or maybe it's just something i chewed up and spat out because i couldn't find a fandom to project the vibe of the night onto a few months ago, the hyperfixated on this week and said fuck it, let's publish this. Enjoy~
> 
> Key notes:  
> -there are three kingdoms, Kibasal, Graisan, and Ruccatia  
> -magic is something that almost everyone in the universe has, and will be explained in the text  
> -cultural norms will be established as time goes on  
> -there's two gods and they will be established sooner or later

There’s a fresh energy in the kingdom this year. It’s the end of the era of the Three Wars, and the hot topic is just that, the Three Wars and what will bring their next era to light.

And, of course, the prince’s return.

Santiago hadn’t seen his younger sibling for four years. In that time, he’d been to war. He’d seen the kingdom. He’d made friends and enemies. He’d trained and fought and soared to his station as the 2nd Lieutenant in her majesty’s royal army. He knew he was a different person than when the younger prince had seen him…

But Santiago’s heart was thrumming in his chest.

It was the dawn of a new era. It was the naming ceremony of his younger sibling.

He couldn’t wait to see it.

By his knowledge of the royal schedule, he should have an hour before his sibling made it to the palace. The preparatory school was far from the castle, nestled in a valley with a river cresting one side. It was a stunning view, from the total of three hours that Santiago had ever seen it.

The prep school… wasn’t his style.

It was a valuable tool in educating royals and nobility in matters of elegance, style, and respect. All of Santiago’s manners were learned in the military, where they shaped him from a child to a man. Even before he had a name, he knew what was expected of him. The reliance on his future as well as his legacy wasn’t something he was unaware of.

He wasn’t a fancy person. He was down to earth. A humble king.

Nothing like the fancy balls favored by the prep school.

After twenty minutes of searching, the only idea he had to do with his face and hair was one, the pair of hair sticks that his sibling had given him when he chose his own name. They were slender gold, and the way they'd looked in those fingers as they worked them into his hair before the party…

It was only fitting.

Santiago nods at his reflection, admiring the way his long white hair looks in its bun, how the sole curl escaping the bottom looked so striking against his neck.

It was about then when he stood, pulling his well-worn military jacket down to shrug onto his shoulders.

"No hello?"

He jumped. That voice…

But it was.

Leaning against his doorway, a slight figure with the same dark hair, the same warm brown eyes and little smirk, the same silhouette of a boy who found someone else's coat and claimed it.

Santiago opens his arms to welcome his sibling, pressing a big kiss to their forehead as he did so.

"Did you miss me?" His younger sibling asked, poking his chest.

Santiago admired them for a moment. The little shorts, the tall striped socks, the prep school collared shirt and vest underneath a coat too big for even Santiago. The younger looked good.

"Every second." He nodded earnestly. "And how have you been doing, my silver star?"

His sibling ran their fingers over his torso, gasping. "So muscled! I thought you hadn't been in the military since before your naming ceremony?"

"I kept up the training. Of course." Santiago picked them up around the waist and walked to his bed, dumping them there. He noted that they avoided his question.

They sprawl out, and he slides onto the bed next to them, finding their hand to lock their fingers together.

"How much did you miss me?" Santiago’s eyes glittered.

The younger heir turned close to him, leaning in to nuzzle their nose against his neck.

"I didn't forget how you smelled. And I didn't forget your name."

"Are you saying I smell bad?" Santiago teased?

He felt something wet on his throat, a shiver wracking down his spine. It must have been his imagination though, because his sibling shifts to straddle him and catch his hands, pinning them above his head.

Santiago lets one eyebrow rise, looking them over. "What are you doing?"

They lean down and press their lips to his ear.

_"Apollo."_

Santiago blinks up at them.

"What was that?"

They merely smirk and sit up slowly, hands resting on his stomach.

"Don't forget it." They nod sagely.

Santiago nods back once.

That's…

Not what he thinks it is. It can't be.

He's still thinking about it that evening.

His sibling had to have been leaving him some kind of… message, he guesses. A code to decipher. Otherwise… it couldn’t have been a name. Unless it was someone else’s name.

Their mother is sitting on a throne with her husband and guard close by. Queen Adelaide was somewhat of a shut-in, besides the naming ceremonies of her children and the monthly address from the terrace. Peasants who lived in the city could gather at the public garden at the south wall of the castle, or it would be televised and broadcast on the radio. Personally, Santiago thought the lack of information was childish at best. She was the ruler of a country, she should be doing better.

But, for the nineteen year old, there was a lot else he could be doing besides fantasizing about when he settled onto the throne and seized the day.

There’s a cluster of nobles on the dance floor of the ballroom. It was an echo of Santiago’s naming ceremony from four years prior, with the lights low and sultry while the food and drink flowed. There was hardly a hand without a champagne glass inside it, Santiago’s included in that metric. And despite all the fancy attire of the evening, Santiago didn’t look too out of place. He was wearing a silk shirt, tied at the collar, tucked into his slacks. Covering his hands were a pair of white and gold lace gloves, with gold bracelets and wrist watches covering his forearms. Over his shoulders was his military jacket, which his father had tutted at but hadn’t argued too strongly against. Finally, a gold and silk belt wrapped around his waist, and gold-lined shoes adorned his feet, and a golden crown, much smaller than his mother's, rested atop his hair. He felt artfully tousled, and he doubted anyone else would disagree.

Of course, his bun, complete with hair sticks, was still intact at the base of his neck too.

He sipped the alcohol.

It was almost time for his sibling to descend into the ballroom. Not that Santiago was accustomed to balls, since this would be his first attendance in four years, and perhaps the largest event since his own naming ceremony that their mother had even hosted, but still. That didn’t discount the event.

He feels a hand tap his shoulder, and half turns, eyebrows furrowed.

Evangeline smirks as she looks him over. "Now, isn't this exciting?" She teases. "You look like an adult, for once."

She was in a floor-length gown that he swears he's seen before, with silver stars and constellations sewn into the fabric. The general had left her own medals in her apartment, the only distinction being her nearly matching gloves. The silver filigree twisting over her palms, the white lace encasing her slender fingers.

Then again, they were both in line for the throne. They didn't have anything to show on their hands. If anyone took issue with the dainty lace, they'd have to take issue with his entire family before him.

"Am I an adult yet?" He joked back. "I thought I was your kid cousin, after all."

"You've killed." She nods. "You just did it while looking like a brat thirteen year old."

He gasped in offense, throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her close and kiss her temple. "So cruel, so cruel!"

Evangeline snickers. "That's my job. So, speaking of brat thirteen year olds…"

"They're fifteen." He corrects.

"Almost sixteen, right? It's been the talk of the night… her majesty waiting ten months for you to be pulled from service for your birthday, nearly missing the window for her youngest's ceremony. There's a lot of interest in how they got shafted so badly…"

"But that's just talk." Santiago responded, tone clipped. "My silver star's night isn't going to be interrupted by petty gossip. Right?"

Evangeline swirled the contents of her glass. "It's just talk. You know my hobby though, turning heads, changing subjects." She offered him her smile again. "Just as expected, right?"

He sipped his champagne. "Absolutely."

Despite the formality, she was his closest friend.

He could spot a few more friends across the dance floor, John entertaining one of the chaperones from the prep school, while Jacinta and Ulysses made their acquaintance with the snacks floating through the room. The only one who'd drifted his way was Evangeline, his dearest cousin on his father's side. Of course, more importantly, she'd also been his mentor in the military.

To say they were close was an understatement.

He sees his mother gather her skirts and nudges Evangeline's hip. "I'm meant to be closer to the stage, I think." He flashes her a smile and departs.

And, as he stands at the base of the stage, Queen Adelaide stands to address the party.

She flashes a weak smile to everyone. Others would describe it as dainty, but Santiago wasn't a dainty type of person. He called things as he saw them.

He wasn't very popular, from what he'd found. He didn't much care.

"This evening, we gather for a very important event. My youngest, heir presumptive to the Kibasal crown, has finally reached that most important age."

She shifts, her lace gloves rubbing together as she shifts to clutch her hands in front of her. Very nervous behavior, which Santiago noted. He didn't want to rule like his mother had, when he ascended the throne. He tried to remember every detail he disapproved of.

He also remembers clearly that his siblings birthday was ten months prior. That his own birthday was tonight.

That she was, presumably, aware of this.

"As tradition goes," Queen Adelaide continues. "My child will come forwards, declare their name, and then the festivities will commence. An hour of mingling, three hours for the dinner, and then two more hours to talk that energy off. But I won't hog all the attention tonight, that honor goes to my dearest…"

And with that, Santiago’s little sibling steps forwards on the small stage.

They smile, smoothing the dress shirt down. They do look stunning, with short dark hair framing their face, a black vest on top of a silver shirt and a cascading tulle skirt. The top of the skirt is short enough that it doesn’t hit their knees, but the bottom of the skirt falls around and down to create a short train on the ground. The tulle is sparkling with dark gems and ruffled tiers, and underneath the skirt are a pair of bare legs and sensible black heeled ankle boots.

And, of course, a silver tiara on their head. Bare hands. That made sense, they never had followed suit in Queen Adelaide or Santiago’s dabblings in lace.

“My name,” They swept their eyes over the crowd, hand still bracing themselves. Santiago remembered this moment well, when he tried not to throw up from nervousness. When everyone’s eyes were on him. When the weight of the world was tensed and, like a dam, about to burst the moment those lips opened again.

Santiago’s heart swells with pride.

“Is Apollo.”

There’s thunderous applause, but his heart merely drops.

_No._


	2. Heir Presumptive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens... and by plot i mean the YA-grade strung together list of tropes that make the skeleton of a romance drama

It takes all of Santiago’s energy to keep his facial expression neutral.

This was very, very bad.

Unfortunately, however, he doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Apollo is stepping into the crowd, and Santiago hardly manages to hear him give his pronouns to some bystander. Apollo, his younger brother.

His younger brother who had violated tradition and told him, before the ceremony, what his name was.

The thing with names, and naming ceremonies… was, well, that it was a secret. Some had it on the tips of their tongues and the backs of their minds ever since they were young, like his friend Jacinta, getting drunk by the display of fruit bouquets. Some didn’t decide it until they took the stage at their ceremony. Some chose never to take a name, and all of those were perfectly normal, natural, and _fine_.

What wasn’t fine was telling someone else your name before the ceremony.

It meant one of two things. First, it could mean awful, terrible luck was to follow.

The second, was a romantic blessing to tell someone if they were simply meant to be together. It strengthened their trust and their bonds, after all, to be so intimate as to trust them with your _name_.

Apollo knew that. There was no way he didn’t. And given that this was his little brother, and the second option was definitely out of question, why was he inviting bad luck upon himself?

Discomfort and nervousness prickled down Santiago’s back.

He didn’t trust this.

There had to be something else. Some kind of explanation. Some kind of… reason. Of course, however, Apollo was swept up in the other parties. Everyone wanted a piece of him. To know how he liked his name, how excited he was to be an adult, how his last few years in prep school had been.

All things that Santiago yearned for, of course, but… ultimately less important than the case of ‘why the hell Apollo had done that’.

Santiago hadn’t seen his brother in a few years, now. Four, in fact, to the day. The morning after his own naming ceremony he’d woken up with an intense hangover, being told by his cousin that his bags were already packed and loaded, and that he merely needed to get dressed, get up, and get in the car.

That same day, his parents had shipped Apollo off to the prep school. The… same prep school that Santiago had skipped due to a threat on one of the bridges that laid between the castle and the school, at the cusp of where the three kingdoms met.

Kibasal.

Graisan.

Ruccatia.

And right at their heart, a small bustling village with a prep school for nobles and royalty of the three kingdoms. Santiago had been told he’d make it there eventually, but duties had mounted until one day, he was already fifteen and his name was chosen, and then he joined the military.

Evangeline ghosts into range again and he loops an arm through hers.

She’s definitely tipsy.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Her eyebrows rise.

“They’re not twisted.” He hisses under his breath, then takes a moment to steady himself. “I’m fine.”

She finishes her glass of champagne, then steals his to finish it as well. “No, you’re not getting out of this that easily. Spill.”

Usually, he’d have no troubles pouring his heart out for her.

Today wasn’t a usual day.

He dips forwards to kiss her cheek, then slips further into the crowd. He just needs to find Apollo, and everything would work out fine.

The problem was…

Well, it was nearly impossible to find such a short person in a crowd like this.

Two, three sweeps of the room, and his feet hurt. No sign of Apollo. There are signs of younger nobles, likely from the school to attend the ceremony. There are older nobles, likely to pay their respects to the Queen and her continuing lineage. There are plenty of high ranking staff and sages, all there to see the child they’d helped raise.

He gives up and steps into the hallway for some air. Maybe if he visited the restroom, he’d feel less bad.

Santiago has his eyes closed when he enters. When he turns towards the sink and leans down to brace his hands on the porcelain, breath ghosting something…

What was under him?

He opens his eyes, and there’s Apollo. Practically bent backwards in half, biting his lip to keep from laughing, an inch away from his older brother. Chests brushing. Skirt rustling gently.

For a long moment, Santiago can’t bring himself to move.

Apollo’s breath is bitter with alcohol and sweet with something unfamiliar, and it dusts his lips as neither brother deigns to move.

That is, until, there’s a rattling on the handle.

Apollo’s eyes widen. One of Santiago’s leaves where he's bracing it on the sink to put a finger over his brother's lips.

There's a whine and a list of obscenities, then the voice fades as it walks away.

Apollo sags with relief against the sink, bracing his elbows on it. He's splayed out under Santiago, their bodies still brushing against each other in the small room.

Santiago coughs and straightens slowly.

"Thank you, Santi." Apollo stretches, then rocks onto his tiptoes to press a kiss against his brother's jaw. "Avoiding exes from prep school is hard."

"Wait- exes?" Santiago cups his brother's tiny waist, holding him still. "Explain?"

Apollo blinks innocently. "You know… exes. Ex relationship. The ending of a dating experience between myself and someone I know. Do you… have a different definition?"

Santiago’s cheeks color. "No. I do not."

Apollo nods. His hands slide down to rest on top of the lace gloves, rubbing them gently. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem?" Santiago starts, then takes a few deep breaths. "The problem is- is that I couldn't find you."

Apollo nods. "Why were you looking for me? Is it time for supper?"

"Dinner. Mother prefers dinner, and you know it."

Apollo rolls his eyes. "I'm sure she'd prefer an ice pick lobotomy too."

Santiago smacked his brother's side. Hard.

Apollo bites his lip to hide what Santiago assumes is a whine.

"Don't talk about her like that. You never know who's listening."

Apollo rolled his hips up into his brother's. "Really?"

Again, Santiago’s brain shorts out.

For a second.

Santiago tightened his grip on Apollo's hips to steady himself, the tulle slippery under his lace gloves.

He steadied his gaze and turned it on Apollo.

"Why did you tell me your name? You know it's bad luck."

Apollo's smile twitches. "You don't get it?"

Santiago shakes his head.

Apollo looks him over for a long minute.

The silence stretches between them awkwardly.

Apollo tsks before he cups the back of his brother's neck. "You really don’t get it?”

The crown prince shakes his head. “I want to understand it. But my mind keeps… coming to impossible conclusions.”

Apollo’s lips quirk up. “Impossible, huh?”

His older brother nods.

It had to be impossible.

Apollo couldn’t mean what he implied. It was… unreasonable to expect that. It was unheard of.

And with that, he brings Santiago down into a kiss.

To say that Santiago was unprepared for the display would be a massive understatement. He was so startled that he accidentally pulled his brother in closer, and an aborted complaint merely twisted their lips together. Apollo is soft under his lips, tasting of alcohol and sugar, lips running against his in a familiar kind of way.

Santiago chose not to think about it.

Mercifully, the kiss doesn't become much deeper or wetter. It's far from chaste, like the tulle trapped under his fingers and the bare fingers skimming his neck and tugging on his loose curl. It’s just a quick statement of intent, present and wiggling into his brain to plant itself there in his memory.

It’s a kiss.

By the time that Apollo is pulling back and looking headily into his eyes, Santiago is disoriented at best.

“Don’t talk down about yourself, your highness.” The younger prince takes a long moment to fix Santiago’s rumpled appearance, making sure to skim and brush his fingers along every edge of Santiago’s exposed nerves.

Feather light, each brush of skin on skin made his heart race.

“You know what’s happening here.”

With that, Apollo murmurs to excuse himself, sliding out of the bathroom and back into the hallway, and the party.

Santiago has to brace himself on the sink to catch his breath, and his senses, back up to time.

It had been four years, to the day, since he saw Apollo last.

What the hell had happened to the sweet younger sibling he remembered?


	3. Heir Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the story continues!  
> i haven't been able to stop fixating on it ngl

Sitting through the three hour affair of dinner with his younger brother across the narrow table from him was…

Awful. Confusing. Stressful. Interesting. Infuriating. Upsetting. Annoying.

Excruciating.

Santiago could still feel the ghost of lips on his, and Apollo was just… sitting next to their father, pressing forks and glasses and treats to his mouth and laughing. With every dart of that tongue against a decadent morsel, with every brush of those lips against a napkin or Apollo’s knuckles, with every time those teeth flashed as it accompanied a laugh, Santiago found himself staring more.

And with their mother, Queen Adelaide, at the head of the table, and only their father on Apollo’s side and Elton, their mother’s right hand, on Santiago’s side… and, not to mention, the rest of the party stretching down the table and laughing and talking. None of it made Apollo more palatable.

Not- not that Santiago wanted to eat him. Not that he was thinking about those lips.

That wasn’t the case.

Obviously.

Still, his cheeks color and he dips his head anytime Apollo catches him staring, and he’s less talkative than usual. Not that anyone notices, since he’s the less outspoken sibling. Maybe it’s because he went to the military instead of prep school, but Santiago never had an easy time parsing the conversations of everyone else. Meanwhile, Apollo is not only following along but nodding and offering his own opinion.

Together, the two of them might have made a single competent ruler. Instead Santiago felt jealous and confused and embarrassed.

Maybe Apollo was just teasing him. Maybe it was something from prep school and Santiago just didn’t know about it.

Still, three hours of nibbling and sipping and staring do little for the raging thoughts in his head.

And then there’s the final stretch. More mingling.

By the time the night is winding down, they’re both quite drunk. The other nobles are ready to be taken home or retire to the guest rooms, and Queen Adelaide has long since retired to her chambers.

Santiago is aware it’s rude to steal his brother away again, but that doesn’t stop him. He looms behind Apollo and smiles drunkenly, apologetically, to his brother’s conversation partners before he closes his lace-covered fingers around Apollo’s wrists and pulls him from the party.

Several hallways and flights of stairs later, Apollo presses himself to Santiago’s chest in the darkest corridor of the castle, giggling quietly.

Santiago has a hard time remembering, through the alcohol, what the goal was.

Apollo rocks up onto his tiptoes to press another bittersweet kiss to Santiago’s jaw.

“You stole me from my party. Early.” Apollo pouts, resting his chin on Santiago’s chest. “What was it? Couldn’t you wait?”

Santiago slowly wraps his arms around his little brother’s shoulders. “You should- you should stop kissing me. It’s not fair.”

Apollo kisses the exposed spot on his chest. “It’s fair to me…”

Santiago skims his fingers up the back of Apollo’s head to knot in his hair and pull his head back sharply. Apollo gasps and whines, leaning into his space further.

“You’re not… not acting fair.” Santiago murmurs.

His argument is weak. He can’t think of the proper one.

The ‘it’s bad luck’ argument.

The ‘it’s not alright’ argument.

The ‘I don’t want this’ argument.

After his grip loosens, Apollo stays still, neck bared enticingly.

“I’m acting like how I always do.” Apollo whispers back. “If you can’t handle it… that’s not my fault.”

“You’re making it so I can’t handle it.”

"You're a big boy." Apollo mused. "Little old me isn't the worst thing you've faced."

He isn't.

Resisting him might be.

Santiago pulls back slowly to lean his head against the wall. He's not sure what his plan is. Not sure what to do. Not sure what Apollo even wants from him. The alcohol has his mind confused, even though it was made up. He knew what he needed to do, which was convince his brother to stop pursuing… whatever this was. He also knew that he needed to get them both to bed.

Santiago lists forwards again as Apollo leans up.

He didn't intend for a second kiss, but his brother seems to have him right where he wants him. Without his mind to keep him grounded, their lips bump together and Apollo winds his arms around Santiago’s middle to hold him there.

And hold him there.

And hold him there.

It was unfair. Apollo burned in his arms, so hot and wanting that no one would be able to turn him down. And they kissed, wet and dirty and hard. This wasn't what Santiago had pictured or intended when he stole his brother away.

But, maybe it was what he wanted.

That… wasn't right. His cheeks burned too and he pushed his brother back.

Apollo’s eyes are shining in the dark corridor. He licks his lips.

"Stop it." Santiago runs a hand through his hair, dislodging more loose, sweaty strands. "I don't want this. You don't know what you're doing."

"You kiss like a librarian."

Santiago scoffed, stunned. "You've been kissing librarians?"

Apollo fussed with the top of Santiago’s shirt, suddenly much more interested in figuring out how to untie the top of it. Given that the action would expose his sweat-slicked chest to the chilly corridor air, Santiago worked his own fingers through his brother's to stop that.

"I wanna see you." Apollo mumbles.

"You'll see a lot more of me if you listen to me." Santiago pushed their hands lower.

Apollo frowns until his fingers brush against the silk belt, when he grins.

Santiago doesn't get a chance to say anything before he steals the belt, stumbling down the hall.

Two drunk teenagers chasing each other around in a post-naming ceremony haze was normal. Being in high spirits after a good reaction to a name was normal. Telling someone the name that was chosen before they announced it was… not common, but normal.

Apollo opens the door to Santiago’s room and darts in. Santiago kicks it closed behind them, moving through the dark.

"Apollo!" Santiago calls out, running his fingers through his hair. The sweat gets on the lace, but it doesn't matter. He has dozens of pairs of gloves.

There's a snicker from the corner.

Santiago kicks off his shoes so that he can walk quieter. Then he dumps his jacket on the bed to turn around it, crouching between it and the couch.

Where he always hid. A red-faced and hiccoughing Apollo, holding the belt to his chest.

Santiago kneels down in front of him, shushing him.

Apollo doesn't stop coughing until Santiago is holding his face.

Apollo wasn't hiccoughing from laughter.

There were tears there too.

More than any breach of privacy, it was terrible luck to cry on the day of the naming ceremony. Santiago peppers kisses over his brother's cheeks, pulling him out of the hiding-hole to hold him properly, tulle and all. It isn't long before Apollo is full-blown sobbing, looking for the wretched world like a drunk, crying toddler.

Or like a genuinely distraught prince.

The high spirits seemed to have evaporated, so Santiago merely held him still until the tears ran out.

When they were kids, this was always how it went. Santiago was the only one who could calm his brother down when there were tantrums, and listened to his problems. He never cared about how they looked, only that Apollo was okay. And from what he could gather, Apollo wasn’t okay.

The hiccoughs subside and Apollo presses his face into Santiago’s chest.

“Talk to me, silver star.” Santiago murmurs. “Tell me everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what y'all think owo  
> tag me on twt if y'all wanna show me anything or ask me anything


End file.
